


My Fire Beats Your Water

by peachwentz



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Omorashi, Watersports, patrick is 17 so i guess this is technically underage, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 05:37:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5236268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachwentz/pseuds/peachwentz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>patrick actually thinks he can beat pete in pokemon</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Fire Beats Your Water

**Author's Note:**

> this was written for ashby (joshlerporn.tumblr.com) and it was a little rushed bc of my homework but!! enjoy. it's cute. and sinful.

Based on the theory of infinite alternate universes, somehow, somewhere, there is, in fact, a universe in which Patrick Stump, 17 year old Patrick Stump, fucks Pete Wentz. Not in the sense of just sex, of course, because, well, the two of them had been a couple for what seemed like forever, even if ' _forever_ ' was Pete's creepy, old man talk for _'a year'_.

In Pete's defense, he couldn't exactly _control_ that he was a creepy old man who had been having fantasies about a boy five years his junior since the second they met, mostly because of that _mouth_ , that ridiculously sinful mouth.

Patrick's lips were the color of something you'd see in someone's art gallery. A French pink, and not to mention, they were ridiculously heart shaped, and as soft as a peach. In fact, all of Patrick was smooth as a peach – fuzz and all, and Pete, aka The Creepy Old Man, could not control the fact that he was staring at the squishy drummer from the spot next to him. Sure, they were squished in a twin bed in Pete's somewhat lair-reminiscent attic, and the space between their bodies wasn't more than a few inches, but watching Patrick hold his Nintendo controller up near his face, watching him crook his neck in such a way that he could see the TV while lying down, it felt like a canyon.

Pete could hear the little beeps and generic music from the TV, generated from uncovering a Pokemon in the grass. "What kind is it?" Patrick said nothing, and instead drove one of his elbows into Pete's ribs. The bassist winced, and sat up to look at the TV. The Pokemon his boyfriend had uncovered was just a stupid _Eevee_ , worthless and abundant, and yet Patrick was _still_  trying to catch it. The sight was pitiful.

Pete let out a theatrical moan of distress before collapsing back on the bed. "Trick, an _Eevee_? _Really_? Of all the wild Pokemon you could stumble upon, and of the ones you could catch, the useful ones at least, you choose an _Eevee_?"

The little grunt Patrick gave was evidence that he was either annoyed, or didn't care, and Pete could not live with either possibility.

Like a cat, or a child needing attention, the bassist wriggled his body between Patrick's legs so his head was on his tummy. He angled himself in such a way that Patrick would have a hard time seeing the screen over him, and of course, Pete smirked when he heard the whine of defeat. The Nintendo controller dropped on the bed next to them, cord strewn haphazardly over Pete's back.

"What the fuck? Is it physically impossible for you to go five minutes without being touched? You won't die, Peter."

The older boy huffed at Patrick, and squirmed around to intentionally rub up against his crotch. "And what if I did?" He challenged.

Patrick rolled his eyes, and tried to ignore the friction on his cock through his jeans. Truth be told, he had been thinking of Pete the whole time he was playing. The game just distracted him and kept him from popping a completely unable-to-be-concealed boner. "Good. Stay dead."

"I'm gonna fuck the sass right out of you if you don't shut up."

Patrick smirked. It was always funny to see Pete get so worked up so easily, so funny to see how he thought he was menacing and whatnot, how he genuinely thought his threats held any merit.

"Winner gets to top," The younger boy declared. Pete popped his head up, bearing a quizzical expression.

"Winner?"

"I challenge you to a Pokemon battle. Right here, right now. Winner fucks the loser," Patrick said with a deviant, onyx smirk. The whole thing seemed easy enough, and a smirk very much reminiscent of the Grinch unfurled on Pete's face.

"Deal."

Poor Patrick. So, so ignorant. The buzz of the old, cheap TV monitor was mildly amusing, and so was the game's theme music in the background as Patrick hooked up the second controller and set up the battle. He hadn't set any rules to the battle, just that the winner got to top, and there was absolutely no way in hell that Pete was going to allow a reverse of the usual to take place. He knew for a fact the best Pokemon Patrick had up his sleeve was a level 100 Gyarados that he was so ridiculously proud of. Pete had a level 202 Chimchar, and even against a water Pokemon, there was no way it could be taken down by a creature at half its skill set. "Pick your poison," Patrick chirped, of course fully expecting that Gyarados to win, and for Pete to experience real, bitter defeat. He set his Pokeballs, and then it was Pete's turn. He locked in his Chimchar, Gengar, and a Dodrio, then watched the scene lay out.

Their trainer characters were adjacent to each other, Pokemon poised to strike, and if Pete had a camera at that moment, he would've been a millionaire. Poor Patrick thought he was so smooth, so superior with his water type. Chimchar scorched the thing in three hits, and Pete was left smacking his lips, soaking up his victory.

"Grab the lube, Pretty Boy," The bassist cackled, sitting up and doing a very dramatic rendition of Michael Jackson's "Thriller" dance, using only his arms. Patrick had a bewildered look plastered to his face, and knew he had to succumb to it. Not that he really minded deep down, of course. Pete could already feel his stomach swirling in anticipation, a cauldron of lust and desire for that soft skin, that deliciously sinful mouth. It was pretty obvious that Patrick was half hard in his jeans, and that thought alone made Pete's cock twitch.

Then, their mouths were touching. It was sudden, but the kiss itself was soft, even welcoming. One of Pete's hands carded through Patrick's hair, so delicately it was as if he were afraid to break the younger boy. Pete's other hand was resting comfortably on his boyfriend's hip, and he pulled Patrick into his lap to let their clothed crotches rub together.

"I bet you were already thinking about this, weren't you, slut?"

Patrick's cheeks were already starting to turn pink, and he nodded.

" _Answer_ _me_!" Pete demanded, tucking two fingers under the vocalist's chin to bring his head straight and upright. Patrick's reply came in the form of a choked, "Y-Yes!", and Pete smirked, watching his boyfriend's chest rise and fall under his rather tacky D.A.R.E shirt.

Like any good man would, Pete removed Patrick's glasses and set them carefully on the nightstand next to the bed, then pulled his t-shirt from his soft, pale body. Patrick only seemed to increase in beauty every time he was naked. It was miraculous. Pete groaned, and leaned in to suck earnestly on one of the supple, pink buds. They were sensitive as hell, and Pete loved it. He made sure to let his tongue lave over the pink skin before flicking it around in quick, hungry circles, and the simple gesture aroused a decent groan out of Patrick.

"M-More."

The older boy smirked, and wedged a hand in the waistband of Patrick's jeans at the very front, touching the bulge in his underwear. "What was that?" He teased.

Patrick wriggled out of his jeans, then stripped Pete down to his underwear as well, until every article of clothing was in a jumbled pile at the foot of the bed. Patrick's cock was thick and heavy, average length, with a deliciously pink tip. It weighed against his thigh, and Pete closed a hand around the hard extremity. His own cock was a bit longer, not as thick, but well endowed with a darker tip and a prominent vein along the left side.

"P-Please," Patrick gasped, reaching one of his hands down to stroke Pete. "N-Need, need. Fuck me, please fuck me." The sinful little words elicited a moan from Pete's throat, low and hoarse.

"Yeah? You want me to fuck you? Show you who's the boss?"

In any situation outside of a sexual context, Patrick would've eaten Pete alive, but in bed, he was putty, completely at the bassist's mercy. Patrick nodded, and Pete just smirked, giving his cock a squeeze. The noise Patrick emitted was so sinful it shouldn't be heard by human ears, and it prompted the other boy to lean in and start kissing at his neck.

Pete's mouth fumbled over the hot, slightly sweaty skin, sucking on the taut, pale flesh. "S-Stop teasing!" The squishy boy squealed, and because of it, Pete squeezed his cock even harder.

The way his body quivered, the noises he was emitting, it was almost looking like Patrick was going to keel over and come all over himself, even barely being touched. His lower belly was swollen, obvious that he had to pee, but Pete wasn't planning on stopping.

"P-Pete, hold on."

The bassist smirked and squeezed the squishy boy's cock. "You gotta piss? Hm?"

Immediately, Patrick's cheeks flushed bright red, and he tried to wriggle away. They hadn't ever done anything like that, Pete hadn't ever peaked interest in it before. "Pete!" The squishy boy choked.

"What would Joe say, hm? If he could see you? Begging to go piss, whimpering with your dick in my hand." The filthy, brazen words wracked Patrick's spine with a shiver, and Pete smirked.

"P-Please, I'll be r-right back, just g-gotta _pee_ ," He sobbed dryly, which didn't help, because the older boy's smirk didn't so much as falter.

"Please!"

Pete smirked and gnawed on his lip, pushing his palm down with more pressure. Small tears rolled from Patrick's cerulean eyes down his red cheeks, and that's when the bassist felt the first small leak of hot, wet fluid on his hand. The feeling of piss on his bare palm against Patrick's bare cock was completely new, but absolutely welcomed.

"Look at you /shaking/, little /slut/."

Pete's words elicited another sob from the squishy boy, and the stream picked up until it was pouring down his legs, all over Pete's hand, all over the bassist's belly. It was scorching, and the smell was intoxicating, but Pete leaned down and licked a bead of the pale liquid from his boyfriend's thigh.

Patrick was still crying, and by that time, the older boy squeezed his prick and started to jerk. The sound of the skin and piss together made Pete groan, and he crawled down between the squishy boy's legs to again lap up a bit of the fluid soaking Patrick's thighs.

"Maybe you'll think twice about being a little /shit/, won't you?" Pete spat, and Patrick choked out a blubbering, incoherent response.

The bassist reached over and grabbed the tube of clear lubricant, cold and sticky, then squeezed it out onto his cock. Pete gave Patrick no prep, but he knew the squishy boy wouldn't speak against it.

"Spread your legs," He hissed, and immediately, Patrick parted his thighs to make room for Patrick to settle between them. Their bodies were wet and sticking together, but at least Patrick had stopped crying.

"P-Please," He managed. It was evident he needed it, too. The younger boy's cock was throbbing, almost standing straight against his belly. Pete's erection was dripping in lubricant, the head pulsing, and slowly, he forced Patrick's gorgeous pale, sticky cheeks apart and pressed his cock against his boyfriend's hole.

"For being only seventeen, you are a fucking slut," The bassist cackled, pushing about an inch into Patrick, which made the squishy boy mewl.

Patrick's abdomen tightened visibly, and Pete cried out at how hot and tight and ridiculously euphoric his boyfriend felt. The squishy boy clenched his ass, and the bassist yelled louder than he had all night.

"L-Little shit," He gasped, slamming into Patrick, which made him yelp. "G-Gonna fuck you until you behave."

Patrick's cheeks and chest were the color of fresh, Lincoln rose petals, and already Pete was being pushed dangerously close to an orgasm. The world around him seemed to be underwater; and he almost felt numb because it felt so good. The sheets were decently soaked, and the smell was going to Pete's head in fumes of pleasure and in readiness to faint.

" _Fuck_!" The twenty year old howled, fucking steadily into the squishy boy, relishing in the sound of slapping, damp skin.

"C-Can I come?" Patrick whimpered out, and suddenly, the bassist hit his orgasm without even providing prior warning. Usually it was Pete that could hold off, that could resist the urge to come for far longer than Patrick could. Then, even though Pete hadn't actually told him it was okay to climax, Patrick let out a sob and spurted his orgasm in hot, thick ropes, all over his stomach, and Pete's chest.

For the few proceeding moments, the bassist continued to drill into his boyfriend, slow, but hard. When he pulled out, drops of sticky, white semen dribbled onto Patrick's thighs, and Pete swiped a two fingers through the mess, collecting some piss in the process. He stuffed the digits into his boyfriend's mouth and smirked. "Next time, don't use a Gyarados against a Chimchar."


End file.
